


Exhumed Love

by lostariels



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Confrontations, Declarations Of Love, F/F, Mind Palace, Pining, Trust Issues, Virtual Reality, itty bitty boxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 15:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20099587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostariels/pseuds/lostariels
Summary: When Lena finds herself stuck inside the framework of her virtual reality creation, Kara steps into Lena's mind prison to help free her. But the only way to do that is for Lena to face all of the parts of herself that she's hidden away in boxes inside herself, and Kara's the last person she wants to be there as she delves into her buried feelings for her.





	Exhumed Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [triangleshape19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triangleshape19/gifts).

> this one is for q again, thank you for keeping me entertained!

Lena was standing in her elevator at L-Corp, a cup of coffee in her hand and stacks of cardboard boxes filling the small space. The shuddering motion and quiet droning were familiar sounds of comfort and Lena looked around, taking in the National City University sweater she was wearing with a bewildered look on her face. It wasn’t something she’d ever wear to work, but it was the most comfortable thing she owned, and she felt her stomach twist itself uncomfortably as the tugged at the worn fabric. It was Kara’s; she’d never given it back to her.

Riding the elevator in silence, she closed her eyes, leaning back against a stack of boxes as the let herself be lulled by the motion and the quiet hum of electricity. This was one of the few moments of her day that allowed Lena a few moments of peace and quiet, no expectations, no judgements, just a sort of in-between, where she wasn’t quite Lena Luthor and she hadn’t made it up to the penthouse office and become Miss Luthor for the day. She existed entirely as her own being. Just Lena. 

In the elevator, there was no dwelling on the misery of her everyday life, of the betrayals and heartbreaks, or the pressure of trying to undo her brother’s hard work to tarnish the family name. It was a time when she left herself shed all of her worries, just for a few minutes. She’d sip her coffee in the quiet, with no one asking her a dozen questions about projects, no one spitting insults in her face for her family, and enjoy the few moments of quiet she allowed herself each day.

And then the elevator slowed and the door dinged. Eyes flying open, Lena’s brows drew together in a frown, confusion swimming in her green eyes. It hadn’t reached the top floor yet, and it wasn’t supposed to stop at any other floors. Yet, as she watched, the doors parted and her stomach dropped at the sight of the woman standing outside. 

Kara’s red cape swished around her calves as she warily stepped into the elevator, her mannerisms lacking the bravado Lena had come to associate with Supergirl. Seeing her in the suit now made fresh hurt and bitterness well up inside Lena, especially as she picked up on the little bits of Kara that were so obvious. In part, it had been her own naïvety that had let the lie endure for as long as it had. How could she  _ not _ have seen the similarities? They even had the same  _ scar _ on their forehead.

Swallowing thickly, Lena looked down, fresh wounds opening up as she felt her chest ache painfully. It hurt to see her, after so many weeks and months of avoiding Kara as much as possible, blowing her off without explanation or finding a way to leave as quickly as she could whenever they came face to face. And Lena couldn’t even bring herself to tell her why. She was confused and hurt, and she didn’t know how to confront Kara about  _ why _ without ruining everything so badly that she’d lose the only person that had ever been there for her.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Lena-”

“Kara, please.”

The doors slid shut behind the costumed superhero before she could step back out, but it didn’t stop Kara from taking a stumbling step backwards, eyes wide with shock as her lips moved soundlessly. Hand splayed against the metal door, she slumped back against it and closed her eyes, shoulders dropping as Kara bowed her head, golden curls spilling around her face.

“You know.”

“I-” 

Lena cut off, grinding her teeth together as tears burned behind her eyes. Of  _ course _ she knew. How could Kara not think that she did, with the distance that Lena had been putting between them. It had been a slip of the tongue though, to call her Kara when she was here as Supergirl. A breach in Lena’s high walls, a moment of forgetfulness. It didn’t matter though; she was in control here.

“Supergirl.”

“No, don’t,” Kara said, suddenly lurching forward, a pained look on her face as she reached out for Lena’s hand, taking it in hers with surprising gentleness for someone with so much raw power and strength. 

Lena let out a shaky breath at the warm touch of her fingers. All those times she’d been cradled gently in those wiry arms, she hadn’t known that Kara held her life in her hands. She could’ve crushed her without a second thought, snapped her spine in half in a heartbeat if she’d forgotten herself. Lena didn’t know what to make of that, that Kara had been so careful, handling her like fragile glass, protecting her from everyone, including herself.

A maelstrom of emotions welled up inside as she snatched her hand back, closing it into a fist and pressing it against her chest, feeling her heart beating quickly beneath her touch. She still couldn’t bring herself to meet Kara’s eyes. She didn’t want to see the devastation, the pleading that she knew would be there. Her resolve wasn’t  _ that _ strong.

“Please don’t pull away,” Kara softly begged, “please. Lena, let me just-”

“I don’t owe you a second of my time,” Lena sharply replied. 

Kara choked on a sob, “I know. But I care about you. I’m trying to help you.”

_ “Help? _ You don’t even know what you’ve  _ done _ to me. You don’t know how much it hurts, how long I’ve been- it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t have to explain myself to  _ you.” _

Reaching past her, Lena jabbed her thumb into the button to make the doors open again. For some reason unbeknownst to her, the elevator hadn’t resumed its gentle motion again when Kara had stepped inside. 

She sniffed and turned her face away from Kara, waiting for the doors to part, coffee held in her hand and a coldness to her rigid body. Forehead crumpling into a frown as the doors stayed tightly closed, Lena rapidly pushed the button, frustration welling up inside as it stayed closed. 

They were stuck. Stuck in an elevator full of tiny boxes with the  _ last _ person she could bring herself to face at that moment. Lena would’ve rathered face her brother again, her mother, her enemies. Anyone but Kara.

“Oh great, well you’ve broken it now,” Lena snapped, not entirely talking about  _ just _ the elevator. 

It wasn’t  _ supposed _ to stop halfway. It was supposed to keep going, right to the end. Her and Kara weren’t supposed to have derailed their entire relationship before they’d even made it to a place that Lena secretly hoped for, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself. Those feelings had been there for a long while now, and she lied to herself to explain why she was so utterly heartbroken. Yes, it hurt to be lied to for so long by a  _ friend _ , but Kara had always meant more to her than that.

And now they were stuck. She didn’t know how they could move forward, and they couldn’t go back. The elevator seemed like a perfect metaphor for that, and in a moment of bitterness, Lena hated herself for her own creation. Perhaps she shouldn’t have made it so intuitive.

“Okay, rerun the simulation again,” she called out.

Kara stared at her from where she leant against the doors, an apprehensive look on her face as she chewed on her bottom lip. It was a nervous habit that Lena recognised from her watching her get all flustered as she interviewed people, and she quickly looked away.

Scowling, she looked upwards, waiting for the simulation to reset itself. Nothing was happening and she let out a heavy sigh. There were more kinks in her artificial reality technology than she’d thought. A  _ lot _ more. Reaching up, she swept her thumbs over her eyes, waiting for the familiar sight of her office to blink back into existence as she exited the framework. Only, nothing happened.

“What-”

“Lena,” Kara gently said, ducking her head as she tried to lock eyes with her.

Head jerking up at the surprising tenderness of Kara’s voice, Lena met her eyes properly for the first time since she’d stepped into the elevator. She felt her bottom lip tremble slightly and quickly pressed her lips into a flat line, squaring her shoulders and stamping down the hurt, shoving it into those boxes she loved so much, jumping as a loud thud sounded and a cardboard box fell on top of another one, already piled precariously high.

“Lena, this isn’t- it’s not a simulation. You’re stuck.”

Letting out a sharp laugh, Lena shook her head, “no, I’m inside my framework. It’s just got some kinks, is all.”

“You’ve been trapped for three days, Lena. Brainy sent me in to pull you back out.”

Scoffing, Lena turned away from her, glancing around at the small space, which felt positively crowded with the heavy tension hanging between her and Kara. She looked at the elevator, an exact replica for the one at L-Corp, down to the very scratches, at the sweater she was wearing, at the coffee from her favourite cart outside the building. It was all fabricated by her framework, although, Lena realised that she hadn’t conjured those things herself. And the boxes … she hadn’t created those either. And she  _ definitely _ hadn’t wanted Kara to show up there.

“I’m not trapped,” she mumbled in a daze, “I’m working.”

“You’re in a coma.”

“Why would I believe  _ you?  _ All you’ve ever done is lie to me.”

Kara drew in a shuddering breath, and Lena peeked sideways at her, watching her nod slowly to herself in acceptance of the harsh words, mouth turned down at the corners and hurt etched into the lines of her face.

“I was trying to protect you, I hope you know that,” Kara quietly replied, meek and surrendering to Lena’s hurt. “Maybe we can- we can talk about this later. I just need you to let me help you get out of here first.”

“I don’t  _ need _ your help,  _ Supergirl. _ I don’t need  _ anyone.” _

Biting back her impatience and frustration, Kara grit her teeth, the muscles in her jaw working, before she let out a quiet sigh and held her hand out, trying to diffuse the tension and simmering anger. 

“Look, I know you’re mad at me. I mean, I’m  _ just _ finding that out, and there’s a lot we’re going to have to talk about, but I’ll let you be as mad at me as you want  _ after _ we get out of here. The longer you stay … the more likely it is that you’ll damage your mind.”

Lena hesitated, wariness flickering in her eyes as she gave Kara a sceptical look. This didn’t sound like a simulation. This wasn’t a scenario she would ever set up for herself, or one that the framework would conjure up by itself with the algorithms Lena had programmed. Biting her lip as she deliberated for a moment, she found a small part of her mind urging her to listen to Kara. No matter what she’d done to Lena, all those times they’d disagreed, whether it was as Kara or Supergirl, she’d always had her back in some capacity. She had always been the hero.

“Please, Lena. Trust me - just this once.”

Bristling at the words, Lena’s eyes flashed with anger and she crossed her arms over her chest as she confronted Kara. “I’m not the one who didn’t trust  _ you.” _

“I know, but-”

“If you’re telling the truth, then get me out of here so this can be over. The framework  _ obviously _ isn’t going to pull me out.”

“You’re in some sort of mind prison,” Kara explained, glancing around at the elevator. “A subconscious place where you feel comfortable, which is .... the L-Corp elevator?”

Lena fixed her with a hard stare, unresponsive and shut off, her shoulders tense and her mouth in a flat line. She didn’t need an explanation, she just wanted to get out. Kara glanced her way for a moment, before her eyes darted away again and she resumed her cataloguing of the space.

“There’s only one door.”

“Well spotted.”

Kara ignored Lena’s irritation and met her eyes. “Which means that you just need to leave through them. Your subconscious should leave the framework and you’ll re-enter reality.”

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“I was in my own mind prison once. All you have to do is … leave.”

“And it was that easy for you?”

“Well … no,” Kara hedged, “but mine wasn’t a framework, it was my own mind. I guess they work kind of similarly though.”

Making a low sound at the back of her throat, conveying her doubt and scepticism, Lena walked back over to the panel on the wall and pushed the button to open the doors. Again, nothing happened. She tried it again and again, before slamming her hand against the metal wall as anger welled up inside.

“Why won’t it  _ open? _ It opened to let  _ you _ in.”

Kara hummed as a thoughtful look crossed her face. “I’m not the one trapped though. Perhaps your subconscious  _ wants _ to stay here. Maybe it’s self-preservation.”

“And what would I gain from being trapped in here with you?” Lena scornfully replied.

“Maybe you’re … afraid of confronting me in real life.”

The hesitation in Kara’s voice and the words that struck so close to home made Lena flinch, quickly averting her gaze as she tried to stamp down the pain inside her. She had been afraid, that much was true, but Kara was there with her now anyway. What difference would it make if it was inside the framework or in real life? Surely that was enough rationalisation to bring her out of it.

“I’m not afraid of _anything_,” Lena said, “I just want to get  _ out of here.” _

She punctuated her last few words by lashing out at the cardboard boxes, shoving a towering stack until it tumbled over, boxes crashing down to the floor. One of them crumpled slightly, the top opening as a photo frame came sliding out, face down.

“What the …” Lena mumbled, before crouching down to pick the frame up.

Her stomach dropped as she turned the frame over, recognising it immediately. It was her, Kara and Alex. The same photo she kept in her office upstairs, the same frame she’d shattered with her glass of whisky as the crushing realisation that she’d been lied to had slammed into her full force. But she’d locked those feelings away in a box, hidden inside her. It shouldn’t have been able to hurt her like that.

“What is it?”

She sharply glanced up at Kara, before clutching the frame to her chest, photo turned inwards so Kara couldn’t see. Her coffee cup was still clutched in her hand, and Lena frowned at it. It was almost like she  _ couldn’t _ let go of it. 

Head reeling as she slumped back on the elevator floor, Lena felt a wave of emotions slam into her. Across from her, Kara sank down to one knee, a worried look in her eyes as her red cape pooled around her on the floor. Letting her head tip back to rest against the towers of other boxes, Lena closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath.

“It’s us. Me, you, Alex. It’s from one of our game nights.”

Slowly, she unveiled the photo, letting her hand fall back down to her lap as the three smiling faces stared up out of the photo. Kara cocked her head to the side as she stared at it across the few feet separating them.

“I remember that night. It was the first time we paired up together. We won every round of Trivial Pursuit.”

Lena let out a small laugh, sadness blossoming in her chest as a wry smile curled her lips, “and charades. And apples to apples and Pictionary. It was the first time I …”

“What?” Kara gently prompted as the smile fell from Lena’s face.

“The first time I felt like somebody knew me completely, and I knew them.”

“Why do you think it’s in here?”

Lena felt a lump lodge itself in her throat as she looked at one of the fallen boxes. She squeezed her eyes shut as they prickled with tears, turning her head aside as fresh pain washed over her.

“It’s all my boxes.”

“Boxes of what?”

She let out a shuddering breath, shaking her head as Kara gently tried to coax information out of her. Lena didn’t want to talk about it - she didn’t think that she  _ could.  _ Here were all the wounds, all the pain and sadness she’d endured, locked away and hidden from the rest of the world so it couldn’t be used against her. And now she’d trapped herself inside with them, in a place of in-between. No way to move forward, no way to move back.

“Boxes of bad memories.”

“What was so bad about that night, Lena?”

Letting go of the photo, Lena dug the heel of her palm into her eye, bowing forward as she fought off the onslaught of memories. The way the frame had fractured, how she’d sat there at her desk, drinking and drinking, until she’d succumbed to the tears she’d fought so hard to keep at bay for hours.

“Not that night,” she whispered, “another one. I- I smashed it. The frame. After I found out about you. For the longest time, I was so alone, and you helped show me what it was like to have a family, to have friends. I thought I knew you,  _ all _ of you … but it was all a lie.”

Sagging as she let out a heavy sigh, Lena ran a hand through her hair, before she picked up the frame and reached for the crumpled box. Settling the photo frame back into the box, she shut the lid again and pressed her hand against the dented cardboard.

“You don’t have to put it away. It’s not real,” Kara quietly reminded her.

“I like to keep everything in place.”

It was one of her more practical approaches to dealing with her emotions. It gave Lena the capability to remain detached, unaffected, and she liked to sort things into boxes, stacking them neatly inside her where they couldn’t bother her further. A small slice of order and control in a life of chaos and disarray.

“The brain is originally like an empty little attic, and you must stock it with such furniture as you choose,” Kara said, mumbling softly as if reciting something, before fixing Lena with a grim look. “I remember this too. You  _ chose _ this furniture. There must be something in here that your subconscious wants you to see.”

“The only thing  _ I _ want to see is those doors opening.”

Giving her a look filled with so much sadness and yearning, Kara shifted closer to her, “Lena, it’s okay to be afraid.”

“I told you, I’m  _ not afraid!” _

She lurched to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest, coffee cup in hand, refusing to acknowledge the blatant lie. Of  _ course _ she was afraid. She was locked inside an elevator with all of her fears, her doubts, bad memories spanning her entire life, and Kara was right there with her, a witness to the awful parts of herself that Lena had tried so hard to forget about. It was all there on display, stacked neatly inside the boxes she’d made for them all.

“These are just-” Lena snarled, lashing out at the boxes, swiping precarious pillars this way and that, tossing them all over the place as Kara stood back, silently watching, “stupid  _ boxes. _ They don’t  _ mean _ anything. There’s nothing to see here; I’ve seen it all before.”

But as the more she made a mess of things, the more boxes opened, items spilling everywhere until her chest was heaving and she was knee-deep in broken and bent boxes. A quiet sob fell from her lips, unbidden, and she flinched away from the gentle touch of a warm hand falling on her shoulder.

Whirling around, a blazing look of anger and accusation in her eyes, Lena tripped and went tumbling down onto the boxes, a small gasp of pain escaping her as the pointed corners of boxes dug into her back. The lid popped off her cup too, coffee sloshing everywhere as Lena cursed, the smell of almonds surrounding her as she struggled to sit up, before she suddenly stopped moving.

The coffee had the bitter smell of almonds, just like the coffee she’d been poisoned with on the L-Corp balcony. The cup tumbled from her hand as she sat up straight, the memory of flying while being cradled in Kara’s arms coming back to her.  _ Kara _ had carried her, not Supergirl. She’d risked exposing herself, her secret identity being ruined, all to save Lena, and the brunette slumped where she sat as the realisation hit her.

“You saved me,” Lena murmured, looking up at Kara with confusion, a crinkle between her eyebrows. “That time I was poisoned.”

“The cyanide,” Kara softly sighed, looking at the cup, “of course. Of _course_ I saved you.”

“No, you didn’t just  _ save  _ me, you risked everything to do it. You risked Kara Danvers.”

Dropping down to a knee, Kara gave her a sad smile, “it wasn’t much of a risk.”

A stricken look on her face, Lena quickly started scrambling through the boxes, tearing off lids and reaching for abandoned objects. There were diaries that belonged to her brother, full of criticisms and harsh belittlements, there was the stuffed teddy bear she’d taken with her when her father had come to fetch her and take her to the Luthor’s, a painful reminder of all the suffering that had come from that, there was the planner Kara had got her on her first day of work, a painful reminder of the fact that Kara had included her in a family tradition, yet hadn’t trusted her with her closest secret.

It wasn’t that Lena thought she was entitled to know it, but after everything, all those times she’d mentioned how hard it was to trust people, it hurt to know that Kara still hadn’t trusted her. Apparently family wasn’t enough to warrant that trust; not if you had the last name Luthor.

Yet still, Lena scrambled through the wreckage, tossing boxes aside, frantically looking through the items, through the memories. She slammed the lid on a box where a cloud of nanites tried to escape, flinching at the memory of sacrificing Jack for Supergirl, tossed aside the tiny device she’d made to contain the armour for Supergirl, past the glove from the Lexosuit that she’d worn to protect Kara from Mercy, the soup she’d taken to Kara, who she’d come to realise wasn’t Kara, when she’d been “sick” at the time Supergirl had been beaten to a pulp.

The recording device Kara had leant her when Eve had stabbed her, shielding her heart, unknowingly protecting her. The taser she’d used against Lex’s Cadmus agents, before falling over the balcony, being caught by a pair of strong arms and a flying hero who had raced across the city as Lena dropped her phone, mid-conversation with Kara. An empty donut bag, where Kara had stubbornly defended her against Maggie. The key to the device her mother had mad, and bags of Big Belly Burger from times spent talking long into the night.

There were so many memories of Kara and Supergirl, painfully sharp reminders that she’d saved her so many times, defended her ruthlessly, and Lena had done the same for her too. She didn’t even realise she was crying until she finally found what she was looking for, kneeling amongst the wreckage with a gun held in her hands, wiping at the tears tracing their way down her cheeks. 

“I shot him,” Lena said, her voice breaking.

“Who?” Kara hesitantly asked, drawing closer, wading through boxes to crouch down beside Lena, taking in the gun.

“Lex. You think you killed him in that explosion, but it was me.  _ I  _ killed him. I shot him.”

She heard Kara’s breath catch in her throat, the sharp exhale of shock, and Lena found herself too ashamed to look at her. Not out of anger this time, but her own self-loathing for the person she’d been resorted to to help make the world a better place. To ensure that he never hurt any of the people she cared about again. Only for him to leave her feeling foolish as her world crumbled around her.

“He showed me a video. All of them were of you. You catching bullets to save me, destroying evidence to hide the truth from me. And I thought to myself,  _ why _ would my best friend do this to me? Why would she  _ lie? _ But the truth is, we’re both liars. God knows I’ve lied to you enough times, kept enough secrets, went out on my own to play the hero.  _ Saved you _ .”

“Lena, I’m  _ sorry.” _

Looking up, tears swimming in her eyes, Lena’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “Whatever you and I are, we’re two sides of the same coin, Kara.”

Wrapping her fingers around the gun, she lowered it into a box with shaky hands, before wiping at her cheeks and sniffing. She wasn’t faultless in this blame. It was hypocritical of her to harbour so much anger towards Kara, without acknowledging her own part in her lies. But that wasn’t the truth of it.

“You should open the door now,” Kara gently urged her.

Shaking her head, Lena let out a shuddering breath, eyes closing as she felt fresh tears slide down her cheeks. Wrapping her arms around herself, she hugged the sweater close, breathing in the faint smell of Kara’s perfume that lingered on it in the framework. In real life it didn’t smell like her anymore; Lena had worn it too many times.

“No. That wasn’t what I had to find. It wasn’t the truth I was looking for.”

“Then I’ll help you look.”

Opening her eyes, Lena gave her a mournful look, full of yearning and regret. “I don’t have to look. I already know what it is.”

She glanced down at the sweater she was wearing with wide-eyed realisation. Through all the boxes, all the parts of her that she was ashamed of, reminders that were too painful to face in reality, everything, she realised that Kara was overwhelmingly present. Present as herself or as Supergirl, but nonetheless there. And it struck Lena that the reason she was so hurt wasn’t just because she’d lied, although that  _ was _ a part of it, but was because she loved her. She loved Kara and it felt like a devastating blow to realise that there was another side to the woman she loved. A whole persona that Lena had admired and fought with, had fiercely protected and been cold with, and Kara hadn’t said a word of it. 

And after months of anger and confusion and so much aching and pining, she finally realised what it was. It was the fact that she loved Kara, and every single thing Kara had done to protect her amounted to nothing, and Lena couldn’t change that. She couldn’t change those feelings that she was so sure didn’t exist. No matter how much she loved her, it didn’t change the fact that Kara didn’t love her enough to trust her.

Pressing a hand against her chest, over the worn grey fabric of the NCU sweater, Lena choked on a sob as a memory blurred by too much wine rose to the surface. She remembered breaking a glass at Sam’s place, sitting there in borrowed clothes, finding amusement in the fact that Kara was so  _ bad _ at lying to her. 

It had been a night of self-pity and wallowing in her misery, until Kara showed up. She’d been so determined to  _ prove _ that Lena was good, that she wasn’t like her family, and Lena had been a wreck, pushing aside all of her attempts to help make her feel better about what she’d thought she’d done. But Kara had stayed, despite Lena’s condescension, and it had been the first time Lena had said that she’d loved her. In a roundabout way, but the word had slipped out, amidst all the guilt and worthlessness, and it was a thought that had haunted Lena ever since.

She’d had those feelings for a long time, buried and unnamed, and that had been the first time she’d shed a light on them, too drunk to realised how much of herself she was exposing, how vulnerable she’d let herself become. But it had been the truth. It had been such a glaring truth that she couldn’t help but be shocked by it, beneath all of her troubles. It was the first time she’d ever said it to anyone, and it had been to a woman that hadn’t said it back. 

“There it is,” Lena murmured to herself, eyes closing as she exhaled softly, deflating as she accepted what she’d already known.

“What is it?”

“Love,” Lena murmured, basking in the sudden warmth that blossomed in her chest, a hundred memories of all the times Kara had made her feel that way rising to the surface, flashing through her mind one by one. 

It was there, despite what Kara did to her. Despite what she did to herself. Beneath it all, under all their actions and words, it was there. It coloured their every memory, the first hum of it as they became friends, the rush as she helped Supergirl, feeling a flush of pride at the happiness in those blue eyes as Lena helped do good. It was there on the couch in her office, sitting side by side with Kara, both of them pink-cheeked as they laughed, a sparkle in Lena’s eyes that had never been there before. 

Opening her eyes, Lena found Kara crouching in front of her, a curious glint in her eyes as she watched her closely, patiently waiting. And with shaking hands, Lena reached out and gently cupped Kara’s face, a look of wonder on her face, even as wariness flickered in the depths of her eyes, knowing that all of her walls were down in that moment.

“You’re my whole  _ world _ , and you've never even realised it .” 

Kara sucked in a sharp breath, caught off guard as she knelt before her, head cradled in Lena’s gentle grasp, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Lena cut her off, knowing that this was it. This was the only moment she’d have to say this. They’d be free in a minute, and whatever happened next was beyond her knowledge, and if she didn’t say it now, she might never have the chance. There was too much pain, too many secrets, and she couldn’t bear another one.

“You’re the part of me that I never even knew existed, and I can’t deny that. No matter what you did to me, you’re in my heart. And I’m not really sure who I’d be without you, because you have this way of making me feel like I’m capable of being the person I was always meant to be. And I don’t- I’m not sure how to reconcile the part of you that mistrusts me with the part that I love. But I love you. I do.”

Kara reached out and gently brushed away a tear with the pad of her thumb, her expression softening as she gave Lena a sad smile. “Lena, I-”

And then she flickered, her form glitching slightly as her words were distorted and unintelligible. With another spasm, Kara was gone, leaving Lena alone in a pile of boxes, her lips parted in surprise before there was a lurch and the elevator started to move again.

Scrambling to her feet, looking around in a panic as she wiped at her cheeks, Lena stopped as the elevator dinged a moment later. Staring straight ahead, she watched as the doors slowly parted, and nearly weak with relief, she stepped towards them and straight out into the hallway beyond.

With a gasp of air, her back arched against a padded bed, and Lena’s forehead tingled slightly as she looked up at the distorted shapes above her. With a clumsy hand, she swiped her thumb and forefinger over her eyes and blinked herself back to reality as she was freed from the simulation, the harsh lights overhead making her feel dizzy as black spots danced across her vision.

“Lena? Oh,  _ Lena, _ thank God.”

She blinked rapidly as she slowly pushed herself up, finding herself quickly enveloped in a tight hug, blonde hair in her face, trembling shoulders beneath her hands as she numbly wrapped her arms around the figure in an automatic response. It was Kara, she realised with surprise, her cheeks reddening with mortification.

“What’re you _doing here?”_ she numbly asked, her words muffled by the shoulder of Kara’s cardigan that her face was pressed into.

“I’ve been here the whole damn time,” Kara said, letting out a sound that was half laughter and half a sob. “You had me worried sick.”

Pulling back, Kara stared down at her with wonder, a hesitant smile stretching across her face as she reached out to pluck a device from Lena’s forehead, before delicately brushing her knuckles across Lena’s prominent cheekbone. 

“I thought I- I thought I was about to lose my whole world - again.”

Lena’s face crumpled at the echo of the sentiment she’d uttered a few moments ago in the framework, a look of such tenderness and love shining in her eyes that she felt a physical ache in her chest.

Before her, Kara sank down to her knees on the tiled floor of the empty room they were in. It looked like the DEO and Lena could see agents walking past outside. They were alone though, and she had a hundred things she wanted to say to Kara, accusations to hurl at her, breathless declarations of love, heartbroken questions as to  _ why _ , but she didn’t even get the chance. 

Gathering Lena’s hands in her own, warmth radiating from the touch, Kara looked up at her with familiar warmth, and it made Lena’s stomach flutter. “I’m  _ sorry. _ I’m sorry for what I did, I’m sorry that I ever made you feel unworthy of my trust, and I’m sorry for the pain I’ve brought you.”

She paused for a moment, a clouded expression on her face as she ducked her head slightly, before glancing back up at Lena with grim acceptance. “The truth is, I was afraid that I’d hurt you with the truth. Or  _ get _ you hurt. Of all the people who know my secret,  _ you _ are the one that could be hurt the most by it. It’s why I- it’s why I never told you … told you of my true feelings.”

“True feelings?”

A spark of hope flickered dimly inside Lena as her heart stumbled slightly. 

“You are a … piece of my humanity, Lena. You’re brilliant and- and kind, and  _ beautiful _ . And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you,” Kara said, her eyes shining with tears, “I’m sorry that I hurt you; I think I hurt you more than anyone else ever could’ve, and that I couldn’t protect you from this one like I have before. I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me. One day, maybe. And I’ll apologise once more, because you didn’t make me fall in love with you, but I did it anyway, and I’m sorry that I didn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved. But you … you have changed my life forever, and I can never imagine a world in which I don’t love you. So I’m begging you,  _ please _ , let me make it up to you. I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you, I promise that to you.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Lena blinked back the burning feeling behind her eyes, a lump lodged in her throat as she struggled to find the words. The truth was that she didn’t quite know what she was feeling. It all felt so surreal. And as happiness burst in her chest, her heart soaring, there was a part of her that couldn’t let go of all that anger, all that doubt, and she didn’t what to do next. But it was too late for her to hate her now because she loved Kara, and Lena knew she’d fight to fix what they’d had, clinging to the ruin of their trust out of the shreds of hope she had that they could fix it.

“I don’t think I have any other choice,” she said, her lips quirking up into a small smile as she reached down to gently stroke Kara’s cheek, her pulse racing as Kara covered her hand with her own. “You’ve exhumed my love. I can’t bury it any longer, and I can’t let go of it. Where does that leave me now?”

“With me,” Kara murmured, a hopeful look in her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I made that promise to you before, and I’m never going to break it. Love’s a rocky road, Lena, but I don’t want to follow it with anyone else.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, she found herself on the cusp of believing her. But there was a natural streak of cynicism within Lena, and she cocked her head to the side as she looked down at Kara, her hand still caressing her cheek, and gave her a troubled look.

“How do I know I can trust you again?”

Letting out a quiet laugh, Kara freed Lena’s hand and climbed to her feet, perching on the edge of the bed with Lena, shoulder to shoulder before she glanced down at her. “It’s a risk that you’ll have to decide if you want to take. And I can’t make that decision for you. All I know is that I won’t keep any more secrets from you.”

“None at all?”

“I  _ trust _ you, Lena. I trust you with all of me, including my heart.”

Nodding, Lena mulled it over in her mind for a few moments, before she turned to Kara. Hesitating slightly, she reached up and gently removed Kara’s glasses, her breath hitching slightly as she took in the change, kicking herself for how she’d ignored the signs for the sake of her own happiness. But a fleeting smile crossed her face as she folded the glasses and handed them to Kara. 

“I want you to tell me something first.”

“Anything,” came Kara’s immediate response.

Head cocked to the side, Lena narrowed her eyes slightly as she gave her a searching look. 

“What’s your  _ real _ name?”


End file.
